“Can't we do anything that doesn't have to do with the tour anymore?” she complained one night when he had brought her a particularly thick stack of papers, and reminded her that they needed her immediate attention.

“Not now. You can play next winter, unless you've planned another record-setting flight. Right now, you have to get down to business,” he said firmly.

“That's all we do,” she whined, and he looked at her with disapproval.

“Do you want to end up like the Star of the Pleiades?“ he asked angrily. It was Earhart's plane, and there were times when Cassie was sick of hearing him say it.

She took the papers from him, and went back upstairs, slamming her study door behind her. She apologized to him later on, and as always, he was very understanding.

“I want you to be prepared, Cassie, in every possible way, so there will never be a mishap,” But there were elements they both knew he wouldn't be able to anticipate for her, like storms, or problems with the engine. But so far, he had thought of everything, down to the merest detail.

Even Pat was vastly impressed by what she told him of their preparations. The man was a genius at planning and precision. And more so at public relations. Even if he was compulsive about all his plans, he had her safety in mind, and her well-being.

And as a reward for her hard work, he took her to San Francisco for a romantic weekend in late April, and Cassie thoroughly enjoyed it, except for the fact that he had set up three interviews for her when they got there.

Their publicity stepped up radically in May. There were press conferences every week, and footage of her flying in newsreels. She and Billy made appearances everywhere: on radio and at women's clubs. They did endorsements and posed for photographs constantly. She felt sometimes as though she had no life of her own anymore, and in fact she didn't. And the harder they worked, and the closer they got to the tour, the less time she and Desmond spent together. He even went to his club a few hours at night sometimes, just to get a breather. And more often than not, by late May, he read papers in his study until he fell asleep there.

She was so sick of it that he suggested she go home for a weekend in May, for a break, and she was relieved to go. She was also happy to see her parents. This time it meant not being with Desmond on her birthday, but he gave her a beautiful sapphire bracelet before she left and told her they'd be together for the next fifty. Even she didn't feel it was a tragedy to miss this one. She was too tense now before the tour to enjoy it much anyway. And she and Desmond seemed miles apart these days. All he cared about was the tour.

It was ridiculous; she was turning twenty-two years old, married to one of the most important men in the world. She was one of the most celebrated women herself, and she was feeling restless and unhappy. All Desmond talked about was the tour, all he wanted to do was read about it, all he wanted her to do was pose for pictures, and spend fifteen hours a day flying. There was more to life than that. At least she thought so, but he didn't seem to know she was alive these days. And in some ways, she wasn't. There was certainly no romance in their life. Just the tour and its myriad preparations.

“How much goddamned flying can we do?” she complained to Billy on the way home. He had decided to come with her for the long weekend. “I swear, sometimes I think I'm beginning to hate it.”

“You'll feel better once we get under way, Cass. It's just rough waiting to go now.” The tour was only five weeks away, and they were both getting tense about it. Cassie could feel it. And on top of it, she had been married for three and a half months, and she felt as though she were no closer to Desmond than before they got married. Their nights together certainly weren't romantic, she thought to herself as they flew east, but she didn't say anything to Billy.

Instead they talked about the press conferences Desmond had set up in L.A. and New York. And he wanted them to go to Chicago for an interview after the weekend, but so far Cassie hadn't agreed to do it.

“God, it's exhausting, isn't it?” She smiled at Billy when they were halfway there. She was glad she was going home. She needed to see her parents.

“I figure that later we'll think it was all worth it,” Billy encouraged her, and she shrugged, feeling better.

“I hope so.”

They flew on in silence for a while, and then he looked at her. She had looked particularly tired and unhappy lately. He suspected that the constant pressure from the press was getting to her. They were a lot easier on him. But they devoured Cassie, and Desmond never seemed to protect her from them. On the contrary, he liked them.

“You okay, Cass?” Billy asked after a while. She was like a younger sister to him, or a very best friend. They spent almost all their time together every day, and they never argued, or snapped at each other, or got tired of each other's company. She was going to be the perfect companion for the Pacific tour, and he was gladder than ever that he was going.

“Yeah… I'm okay… I'm feeling better. It'll be good to get home and see everyone.”

He nodded. He had gone to San Francisco the week before, to see his father, who was so proud of him. He knew how much Cassie's family meant to her. She needed them right now, just as he had needed to see his father. And then, suddenly, alone in the plane, he found himself wanting to ask her something he had felt awkward asking her before. But she seemed very relaxed now.

“Do you ever hear from Nick?” he asked casually, and she stared out into the clouds for a long time and then shook her head.

“Nope, I don't. He wanted us both to be free. I guess he got what he wanted.”

“Docs he know?” Billy asked quietly, sorry that things hadn't worked out for them. Nick was a great guy, and Billy had always sensed how much Cassie loved him. Right from the first day he'd met them. It was as though they belonged to each other.

“About Desmond?” she asked, and he nodded. “No. Since he didn't want to write, I figured he'd just hear eventually. I didn't want to write and tell him.” She also didn't want to write him and upset the balance.

Something like that could make you just loose enough to make a fatal mistake in a fighter plane, and she didn't want that. “He must know by now. I know he writes to my dad sometimes.” But she had never asked Fat if he had told him. It was still too painful to even think about, and she forced him from her mind as they flew over Kansas.

The press was waiting for them as they touched down in Illinois. They had spent the entire day waiting for them at her father's airport. And she knew there wasn't going to be any peace anymore, not until after the tour. It was just too close now.

She did what Desmond always wanted her to, gave them plenty of time, lots of photographs, satisfied them by answering some questions, and then she called it a day, and said she was anxious to go home to her mother.

Her father had been waiting for her, and he posed for photographs with her too, as did Billy. And then finally, the photographers left, and she heaved a sigh of relief, as she and Billy threw their things into her father's truck, and he looked at her with a long, slow smile. But she had noticed as soon as they'd arrived that her father didn't look well.

“You okay, Dad?” He looked kind of gray, and she didn't like it. But she figured maybe he'd had influenza. She knew her mother had when they returned from California. And he worked hard for a man his age. Harder now that Nick was gone, and she and Billy, and Chris… He had to rely entirely on hired hands, and the usual nomadic crews of wandering pilots.

“I'm fine,” he said unconvincingly. And then he looked anxiously at his daughter. Oona said he should have told her on the phone, but he wasn't sure what to say. But she had to know now. Pat hadn't told Nick either. And amazingly neither had anyone else. He had only arrived the night before though.

“Something wrong?” She had sensed his hesitation. Billy was unaware of it, as he looked at the familiar landscape out the window.

“Nick is here,” he said all at one gulp, looking straight ahead.

“He is? Where is he staying?” she asked uncomfortably.

“At his own place. But I imagine he'll come by the house eventually. I thought I'd better warn you.”

“Does he know I'm coming?” Pat shook his head, and Billy watched her eyes. He had just heard what her father had said, and he hoped it wouldn't upset her too much.

“Not yet. He got in last night. He's just here for a few days. I didn't have a chance to tell him.” She didn't dare ask if he had told him she was married.

She said not another word, and a few minutes later she was in the arms of her mother. Billy carried in her things, and Pat took him into Chris's room. His things were still everywhere, and it was a shock to walk in and see it. It made Cassie's heart ache to look around. It was as though he would be home any minute.

She settled into her old room, and her mother had dinner waiting for them. It was a hot, simple meal of the things Cassie liked best, fried chicken, corn on the cob, and mashed potatoes.

“I'd be the size of this house if I lived here,” Cassie said happily between mouthfuls.

“Me too,” Billy grinned happily, and her mother was flattered.

“You've lost weight,” Oona reproached her with a worried frown. But Billy was quick to explain it.

“We've been working pretty hard, Mrs. O’Malley. Test flights fifteen hours a day. Long distance runs all over the country, we're testing everything we can before July.”

“I'm glad to hear it,” Pat said.

And as Oona cleared the table and prepared to serve them apple pie with homemade vanilla ice cream, they heard footsteps on the porch, and Cassie felt her heart stop. She was looking at her plate, and she had to force her eyes up to look at him as he came through the door. She didn't want to see him, but she knew she had to. And when she did, he took her breath away. He was more handsome than he had ever been, with his jet black hair, brilliant blue eyes, and a dark suntan. She almost gasped when she saw him, and then she blushed bright red, and no one moved or said a word. It was as though they all knew what was coming.